Textbook Ephemeral

Some days the jobette hardly seems like work at all. Take last Tuesday, for example. I got up when it was light outside, had coffee, and made my way to the South Coast in the fancy new car.

The new car (as yet unnamed – any suggestions?) has a 30 day warranty, and I think between the long drive home from Modesto and the steep, curvy drive to the South Coast, I have a pretty good idea of how the car is going to perform. My brother says that problems should appear within the first 30 days. So far, so good.

The trip to the lovely south coast was to distribute materials for an upcoming festival to all the businesses which are participating, as well as the visitors’ center. It was a beautiful day, warm enough to have the car windows open. The ocean was feeling pretty that day:

and I saw a pod of migrating orcas chasing dolphins when I stopped at the Point Arena lighthouse. It is 115 feet tall and doesn’t quite fit into my camera’s lens:

The lighthouse is situated on the westernmost part of the Lower 48. Next stop Hawaii!

The Point Arena pier is a favorite location of surfers, who say it has some of the best waves in northern California. It is also beloved of fishermen, with some of the deepest waters in the County and a sheltered cove location:

I had clam chowder for lunch overlooking the pier:

It was warm enough to sit on the deck and watch the waves.

On my way home, I picked up dinner at the delightful Thai restaurant where Megan and I had lunch after our amazing South Coast safari this fall.

The next morning, I met my jobette co-workers at the Botanical Gardens to watch birds with a guide. Apparently birding is very good here, even in the winter, and these birding tours are available twice a week, year-round.

Embarrassingly, I am not good at identifying birds other than the obvious. My father kept a list of birds he had seen from the age of five, and every week, he’d send a list of the birds he had seen in the garden to the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds*. Lest you think him more of a crackpot than he really was, the RSPB depends on these amateur reports as well as the annual bird count to keep track of what species are doing well on the sceptered isle and which aren’t.

I caught a hummingbird at rest:

I don’t think I’ve ever seen one just sitting on a branch before. We sighted an egret, and several robins, which are a cheery harbinger of winter here (along with the happy peeping of frogs, which we haven’t heard due to the lack of rain), as well as a flicker and a sort of warbler (or possibly wren) which had a yellow part under its tail, which the guide called “butter butt”. Sadly I was unable to see the bird or its butt. Sorry, Dad.

Wednesday was as foggy as Tuesday was sunny, which lent the garden a dreamlike look:

Despite the lack of rain, this brook babbled happily through the garden:

This gate looks like something Rob would make:

After our birding expedition, we went back to work and had pizza, salad and wine for lunch. It’s a hard job, but someone’s got to do it!

*After he died, we found his partially completed list for that week on his desk with his reading glasses resting atop it, as if their owner might walk back into the room at any moment. We mailed it in for him.

4 Responses to “Scenic”

What beautiful photos, you must be very happy to live in such a beautiful part of your country, so many wonderful scenes and adventures to be enjoyed by all. How about buttercup for the new ride, it’s cute and innocent.

We always thought it must be wonderful to have a babbling brook In one’s garden….the photo s are just great and the garden is lovely..very whimsical . Your father was a very interesting man I think, it would have been so nice to have known him. You and Megan & Jonathan were very fortunate to have such a Dad.

Thank you Suzy. An old Elder told me once: The only way to genuinely feel love is to take the risk of being your true self and then find out that you’re accepted and cherished for who you really are, we never get enough time in this lifetime to accomplish everything but we all try hard to be remembered when we leave.